


How to tame a brat

by Gutter_Couch



Series: behind me, beneath me, beside me [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Bathing/Washing, Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Painplay, Spanking, belly bulge, gentle dom foggy nelson, not so gentle dom Foggy Nelson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gutter_Couch/pseuds/Gutter_Couch
Summary: Matt's ready for more sex and gets petulant when Foggy tries to slow him down. Foggy will always take care of Matt's needs, including when Matt's begging for punishment.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: behind me, beneath me, beside me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977175
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	How to tame a brat

The rolled-up rug is sticky under his hips when Matt returns from the stratosphere. 

Foggy’s still in him, rocking in a slow, lazy way that tells Matt he’s trying to decide if he wants to pull out and clean up or just lay there for a while. They smell like all the things Matt loves most: Salty like sweat, tangy like cum, a bit oily from the lube. They smell like each other.

Matt rolls his shoulders, trying to stretch on the unrolled corner of the rug. As usual, Matt doesn’t want this to end. But also as usual, Foggy knows that proper pacing earns them more fun in the long run.

Foggy collects Matt into his arms. Matt's ass is tender, striped from the shirt-whipping and cross-striped with stinging scratches, but he settles back into Foggy.

“Matt, I want you to know that I love you very much,” Foggy says on a quiet, quiet breath into Matt's hair.

Matt preens, wiggling his hips a little. His asshole is a bit sore, but, even mostly limp, Foggy fills his bowels in a way that makes him feel warm, and proud. The wiggling doesn't do much to push Foggy deeper, but it presses the soft folds of Foggy's thighs into the cuts on Matt's butt, a reminder that Foggy can be sharp as well as soft.

“And I am proud of you for taking steps to tell me what you need,” Foggy continues.

Matt pulls Foggy's arms tighter around him. Foggy's still wearing his ribbed cotton undershirt, but his arms are bare and solid. “But I need you to know," Foggy says, freeing one hand to fiddle with the silk tie around Matt's neck. “That business where you hooked me with the tie?”

“You liked it!” Matt interrupts, petulant, jutting his chin out.

"I did," Foggy concedes, planting a soft kiss onto the top of Matt's head. “Even so..." Foggy pulls the tie firmly, and the top of Matt's head parts from his lips. "Matt, you were a very naughty boy.”

Matt strains his neck backward, trying to push back into Foggy's embrace, but Foggy holds the tie firm. Foggy's other hand is slung low, reaching across Matt's hips. Matt himself put that hand there. Foggy flexes his arm, pulling Matt into his hips, giving Matt something to push back on and struggle against.

Lying on their sides, Matt's trapped between Foggy's forearm and his body. The tie is taut.

Canting his hips forward would push into Foggy's arm but it would also pull Foggy out a few inches. And that's not what Matt wants either.

Matt braces his bare feet on the floor and _rolls._

Foggy yelps and finds himself flat on his back. Matt's lying on top of him, rocking his hips, grinding down into the bowl of Foggy's waist.

Foggy drops the tie momentary, pulling his hand back and cracking an open palm against Matt's belly, low, just above the short, neatly trip patch of dark hairs. 

Matt's dick twitches, but he keeps grinding. "You," he says, then pushes down again, "You like me when I'm naughty."

"Matt, get off."

"Trying to."

"No," Foggy slaps him again, dangerously close to the root of his dick. "Off. Now."

Matt sits up, squeezing his ass cheeks. "But--"

Foggy lets his head fall back to the floor from where hed' been craning his neck. "Sometimes, I like you more than other times." He plants both palms on Matt's hips and shoves, dumping Matt unceremoniously on the floor.

Matt feels the loss of closeness more than either slap. "But--" He curls up on himself. His dick is rapidly shriveling. "I-- You told me to tell you want I wanted and I didn't have the words but I--" Matt rocks his hips, ass clenching on nothing.

Foggy hauls himself to a seated position, then to his sore knees, then stands.

He reaches a hand down to Matt.

"Up."

Matt wipes a palm across his face and moves to a kneeling position on the bare wood flooring of the apartment. He places his open hands on his bare thighs, which glisten with lube and sweat and no small amount of his and Foggy's cum. His head is tilted down. He ignores Foggy's extended hand.

He's shivering, and the orange light through the apartment window plays through the fine, fine hairs of his neck, legs, and arms to give him a soft halo.

"Baby," Foggy whispers.

Matt shakes his head minutely.

Foggy sighs again, the walks over to the couch. He fluffs the pillows, straightens a stray cushion. He re-settles the incredibly soft blanket over the back of the couch.

Matt hasn't moved. 

He's shivering even harder, breathing now fast, tiny sips.

Foggy sits on the couch, feet flat on the floor. He peels his sweat-soaked undershirt off over his head, tossing it on a kitchen chair. His boxer-briefs follow. 

Somehow, he's managed to keep his tie on through all of this. That, he loosens but leaves on in the hopes that this night is salvageable.

Foggy pats the couch cushion beside him. He waits, steadying his breathing and, he hopes, his heart rate. He makes himself feel calm, and he remembers that he is in control. Matt likes to be a bit of a brat, but there's something more here, too.

After a moment, Matt's breathing steadies. He rises on shaky legs.

Foggy had expected him to crawl, but Matt shuffles over like a person. When he stands before Foggy, bruised and hurt and so beautiful, he waits.

Foggy reaches out and twines their fingers together, both hand in hand. He squeezes. "Would you like to sit with me, Matty? I'd like that."

Matt nods. "Yes, Foggy."

"Okay." Foggy squeezes their fingers again. Matt squeezes back, faintly. But he makes no move.

"Would you like to sit next to me, or on the floor?"

"I--"

"I want you to tell me what you want."

"I want to touch you."

"Okay, we can do that."

Foggy waits.

Matt doesn't move, head hung.

Foggy smiles tenderly. They both have a lot to work on but Matt's trying so hard.

Foggy squeezes their hands one more time, then stands. He's directly in front of Matt, so he wraps Matt in his soft, round arms. He folds Matt close. Foggy is warm and Matt is shivering, but the shaking slowly subsides as Matt holds him.

"Foggy..." Matt breathes.

"I'm going to leave for just one second, to get a nice warm towel. But I won't leave until you tell me it's okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Foggy."

"Good. That's good."

"When I come back, I want you to be in a place where you feel safe and comfortable."

Matt doesn't nod this time. Foggy leans back, examining Matt in his arms. "Wherever you are, Matt, I'll make sure you feel good. I'll touch you all over, in the ways you like."

Matt inhales. "Yes, Foggy."

"Good, that's good." Foggy hugs him tight again. His gaze is unfocused at the city in the rainy night through the window.

After a long moment of Foggy rocking them, his heart slow and steady, Matt says into his shoulder. "Okay. I'm ready."

Foggy beams. "Oh, my very good boy. Thank you." He kisses Matt on the cheek and walks away toward the bathroom, humming under his breath.

Foggy, having read Matt, is fairly certain of what's going on here. He can bring Matt around.

He leaves the bathroom door open, knowing it won't matter either way, and gathers a few supplies in a plastic tote. He rinses his mouth out with mouthwash (Matt sneezes in the other room), then washes out his mouth three times with cold water. He splashes water under his armpits and on his face. He stretches his arms over his head, leaning side to side, then front to back. 

He looks at himself in the mirror. His hair's growing back out, long like Matt says he likes. He's not certain whether Matt enjoys fiddling with the hair or pulling it more but Foggy's down for either. His face is round and soft, but there's a glint in his eyes as he sets his jaw.

"Matty," he says, "I'll be out in a few more moments. Don't move."

No sound comes from the main room, but Foggy expected as much.

He pees and washes his hands, considers a moment the various towels they have and selects a small square. He plugs the sink drain and turns on the warm water, letting the basin fill. 

He reaches down and tugs himself while he waits. He's not sore; Matt had been quick to cum and had hardly ridden him at all, but he's also not quite ready for round two. Still, it feels nice to stroke his soft member, to fondle and cup his generous balls. He's smooth. He remembers Matt shaving him last night. Matt always insisted on "checking" the shave: First with his nose and cheeks, nuzzling Foggy's undercarriage, then a pass with his clever tongue. Long, strong licks. Matt is very thorough.

The basin fills and Foggy dips the towel in. He cleans himself, first cradling around his dick and pulling down along it, then swiping around his balls and thighs. He cleans his perineum, that tender region Matt's tongue loves so much. And then, despite having done relatively little there tonight, he wipes his asshole clean for good measure.

He dips the towel in the water again, wringing it through his thick-fingered hands. He unplugs the sink drain, collects his plastic shower caddy, and returns to the main room.

Matt is on his knees, facing the edge of the couch, right at the center. Foggy walks over slowly.

"I could hear you," Matt informs him. His voice is the soft, quiet, pliant voice that stirs a fiercely protective urge in Foggy's heart.

"What did it sound like?"

"You were touching yourself." He frowns.

"I'm allowed to do that."

The frown deepens.

Foggy smiles. He sets the caddy down on the couch and approaches Matt. "Let's clean you up."

"You said I couldn't move."

"Matt," Foggy scolds.

"Foggy," Matt says.

"Matt, I know when you're trying to bait me into paddling you. It's not going to work."

Matt's face morphs rapidly from subtle triumph to contrite.

"If you want me to hit you, then it isn't punishment, is it?"

Matt pauses, considering. His voice is quiet when he says, "No, Foggy."

"Stand."

Matt stands.

Foggy hands him the towel. "Clean yourself."

Foggy sits on the couch directly in front of Matt. It's just the right height for Matt's abs to be at eye level. (Foggy was very particular when shopping for couches -- sturdy couches. Matt had been allowed to pick the upholstery material, but Foggy chose the dimensions.)

Matt passes the towel over his abdomen and immediately wrinkles his nose.

"Something wrong?" Foggy prompts.

Matt nods. "You... this isn't a fresh towel."

"I wanted you to smell like me."

"I like that but... this smells like you, and like lube."

Foggy steeples his fingers over his nose. "Matt, if you want to smell like me and like lube for other reasons, just get yourself cleaned up already."

Matt scowls but complies. He wipes down his abs, tightening and flexing them in Foggy's face. Foggy leans back on the couch and enjoys Matt showing off his body. There are hickies, dark purple bruises the size of Foggy's mouth, on Matt's thighs. Whenever Matt passes the warm towel over them, his mouth falls open.

"You can press on them, dear, if you want."

Matt shuts his mouth, swallows, and pushes a thumb into the darkest bruise. His shoulders fall back, and a slack smile slides over his face.

"Let me," Foggy offers, taking the damp towel from Matt's loose hand. Foggy presses his thumb where Matt's had been, firm, and then he twists savagely, grinding the cloth into the bruise.

Matt gasps, falls back a half step then he regains his balance. Foggy twists his thumb into another bruised kiss above Matt's knee, and then both hips.

Matt pushes back, inhaling sharply but saying nothing, simply waiting for the next tiny punch of pain, the scrape of the wet cloth in a blood-dark dimple.

When Foggy has re-made all of the previous day's bruises, he leans back.

"You missed a spot," Matt says, snark materializing.

"Oh, I did, did I?" Foggy asks, still not rising to the bait.

"Right here," Matt places a wet finger at the seam of his left leg.

Foggy bends forward, kisses the spot softy.

Matt frowns.

"Any other missed spots?"

"Here." Matt jabs his finger to the same spot on the opposite leg.

Foggy lifts Matt's dick, warm blood starting to pool, and turns his head to press a gentle kiss to Matt's skin.

"There," Foggy says, leaning back. "All better."

Matt frowns and, with both pointer fingers, points directly at the tip of his dick.

So Foggy bites him.

Matt howls in surprise but knows better than to jump back with the head of his penis between Foggy's teeth. He feels the arteries of his dick expand, filling with hot blood that's dumped into the spongy flesh, swelling him. Foggy swivels his jaw side to side once, then releases Matt with a gentle lick.

"You're right," Foggy says. "Tastes like lube."

Matt snatches the towel back from Foggy and begins to vigorous clean himself in short, sharp jerks of his hand. He reaches back, cleaning between his ass cheeks. This affords Foggy a lovely view of dick in his face, still shining wet from Foggy's spit. Foggy blows a bit of air onto it and Matt jerks forward, threatening to poke Foggy in the eye.

Foggy slaps Matt's dick aside. "Stand straight."

Matt goes rigid.

"I want this," Foggy pokes Matt dick savagely with a long finger, "clean before it's in my face again."

Matt nods and reaches down, wrapping the hand towel around himself and closing his fingers. He twists the towel around, pulling the skin into long, fine whorls of wrinkles. Then he twists back around the other direction and drags the towel down. Uncut as he is, there's plenty of skin to work with.

"Scrub harder."

Matt squeezes his fingers tighter and repeats the maneuver: fingers around, twists clockwise, pulls. Fingers around, twists counterclockwise, pulls. 

As he's stretching the skin down his long length once more Foggy says, stern, "Scrub. Harder."

Matt grinds the rough fabric of the towel into his thin skin, sliding it across his hard dick.

"You're not going to tear, are you?"

Matt shakes his head: no.

"Of course you're not, you're my strong boy. So get yourself clean for me. Clean yourself like you mean it."

Matt speeds up, wrapping his other hand around his fist and squeezing both tightly. He gasps, clenching his jaw, and begins to jerk himself. With only a little water and the barest remnants of lube, there's a lot of friction and he can pull the feel of his skin. 

Foggy watches the purple-red of Matt's dick between his stroking white knuckles. 

Finally, Foggy's dick is beginning to stir. It's languid, a tired feeling, and it will take some time for Foggy to be ready to take Matt again, but in the meantime there is plenty Matt can do to occupy himself.

"Foggy," Matt says, stroking down viciously, "Foggy, it hurts."

"Well, you did disobey me earlier."

Matt gasps and nods.

"Don't stop, you're not clean yet."

Matt resumes stroking.

"Hurts," he says again, quietly.

"Are you strong?"

Matt nods. A tear slips out of his eye. He inhales through his nose, shaky, and nods again. The skin of his dick is darker now, where it isn't stretched white under his clenched fists.

"Matt, I'm going to ask you something and you're going to answer me honestly."

Matt nods again. Then, pauses for the briefest of seconds. He resumes stroking, even faster now. "What if..." he pants, "what if I don't?"

"If you don't answer, we stop."

Matt stutters to a halt, finally tilting his head up at Foggy.

"I know you want to keep going, but you have to communicate with me. That's the rule. I make the rules to keep you safe, Matty."

"So I don't get damaged for you."

"That's right."

"If on the other hand, you communicate but don't tell the truth, I will know."

Matt smiles, sharp. He drops the hand towel and wraps a bare hand around himself. Foggy ignores that bit of rebellion. He lets Matt stroke himself a few more times, then lays his hand on top of Matt's, stilling him.

"I told you, earlier, to climb down off of me, but you didn't. Tell me: why did you disobey my direct command?"

Foggy squeezes Matt through Matt's hand to emphasize the question.

"Your dick feels good in me," Matt responds, affect meek.

"I'm very happy to hear that," Foggy says with another gentle squeeze, "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Like... really good?" Matt tries.

Foggy drops his hand and moves to stand up.

"No!" Matt cries, grabbing for Foggy. "Foggy, it's true, I need you."

Foggy places his hands on Matt's shoulders and gently presses down until Matt's back in his original kneeling position. Foggy sits on the couch in front of him. "I love you, Matt," Foggy assures, stroking Matt's hair. "Even when you're naughty, even when you try to trick me, I still love you. I'm not leaving. Do you believe me, Matt?"

Matt's so quiet. "I try to."

"Good, that's good. I mean it, and I will tell you I love you again and again."

Matt resettles his hands in front of him on his bare thighs. "I wanted you to fuck me."

"I had just finished fucking you. It was spectacular, as I recall," Foggy points out.

"Yea," Matt agrees almost begrudgingly, "Yea but I wanted you to fuck me again."

"Matt, I can't get it up that fast. You know that."

Matt dips his head. His own dick is still hard, throbbing.

Foggy pulls Matt forward and kisses his forehead. "You're a special one, Matt. My special boy with the best magical regenerating penis in the whole world."

Matt's chokes on a laugh. "I-- what?"

"The best magical penis," Foggy says, firm, "and the most magical, most hungry ass I have ever encountered."

"Yea," Matt agrees. "Yea."

Foggy chuckles to himself, tousling Matt's hair. To think this guy is an adrenaline junkie parkour artist and the most articulate lawyer in NYC... "So you thought you could wake Little Foggy Jr. up from his well-earned nap just by grinding on me?"

"He's not little."

Foggy smiles. "Right now he is, because. he. is. napping."

This isn't entirely true; Foggy's already beginning to feel the familiar pooling of warmth.

Matt reaches out a hand and licks his red lips. "I can help!"

Foggy shakes his head and catches Matt's hand. "Let's let him rest. For now."

Matt nods, resets his hands in his lap.

"You didn't correct me otherwise, so is it safe to assume you're still feeling empty?"

"YES," Matt grinds out.

"Well, it's a good thing that we can work with more than just Little Foggy Jr. now, isn't it?"

"Not little," Matt says again, shifting his hips at the burning memory of that colossal dick.

"Go get a toy. I'll make sure you don't feel so empty."

Matt brightens and turns on his heels. He scrabbles on his hands and knees toward the bedroom. Foggy admires Matt's red, jiggly ass on the way and then reaches for the plastic shower caddy.

Matt trots back into the room on all fours, red lips smiling around the toys in his mouth. He returns to sit in front of Foggy, dropping the toys in Foggy's lap.

"Ah," Foggy smiles, holding up a slightly damp toy, "You've brought me your favorite set of anal beads and... a rather large buttplug. Do you have a preference?"

Matt nods and immediately says, "Both!"

Foggy chuckles. "Eager as ever. No, I think that's not quite what tonight calls for. Go and fetch me the red plug."

Matt whines.

Foggy sets aside the toys on the couch. "I'm not saying no entirely, just that I also will need the plug."

"You're going to need the plug?"

"Matt, the sooner you do as I say, the sooner you'll find out."

Matt turns, crouching, then pauses to look over his shoulder. "Which one is the red one?"

 **CRACK!** Foggy slaps him on the ass.

"Go!"

Matt laughs and scampers off. There's a crash from the bedroom as Foggy rummages in the plastic tote.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

There's another crash.

"You know you're the one who's going to have to clean that up."

A third crash.

(They don't even own three tables.)

Matt returns, still crawling. He's got the green butt plug in his mouth. The green is a size larger than the red, and he damn well knows it. He spits the plug on the floor in front of Foggy and says, "I hid the maid outfit. I ain't cleaning shit."

Foggy refuses to rise to the bait. "'Ain't'... My, my, Matthew. It's like you've forgotten how to speak to the own who owns you."

"You don't own me, we just pretend you have control."

"Isn't control enough?"

Matt crosses his arms, but he's rocking back and forth as he crouches on his heels. His dick is taut and tight and red.

"Matthew, pick up the butt plug and bring it here."

"Get it your own damn self."

Foggy sighs, sets his hands on his bare knees, and stands. He walks slowly around Matt to stand directly behind him. He lifts his foot and plants the sole squarely between Matt's shoulders. With a shove, he tips Matt forward.

Matt catches himself on the couch.

Foggy kneels, grabs both Matt's knees, and hauls backward until Matt is kneeling with a flat back at the height of the couch. He walks back over to the plastic caddy, takes out a loofa scrubber (natural fibers only for Matt's very sensitive skin) and walks back.

"I'm not sure you can take this," Foggy says, light.

Matt growls into his arms folded on the couch.

"Oh, well, you were a mostly good enough boy until you weren't."

Foggy takes the loofa to the skin of Matt's ass, rubbing vigorously.

Matt yowls but stays put.

Foggy scrubs first the left cheek, then the right, drawing a few drops of blood from where Matt had already been cut and abraded and bitten. He drags the stiff fibers of the loofa down the backs of Matt's legs, catching the hairs and pulling indiscriminately.

Matt yips and grunts, squeezing his own forearms and straining his abs and back to stay steady.

"Well," Foggy muses, "you are, at least, clean."

He reaches between Matt's legs, tucks Matt's balls and hard dick, now leaking, out of the way against Matt's stomach, and passes the loofa in a long stripe across Matt's perineum and asshole.

Then he drops the loofa, massages both ass cheeks with his broad hands, and proceeds to spank the ever-living shit out of Matt.

A flurry of rapid, open-palmed blows in sets of five: _whap whap whap whap **WHAP**_. He saves the hardest slap for last. 

Foggy moves slightly lower on the cheek. _Whap whap whap whap **WHAP**_. 

Matt rocks forward, openly crying. 

Foggy toes Matt's knees open. Matt spreads his legs widely obligingly. Foggy smacks low in between his leg, the nails of his fingers just tagging Matt's ballsack.

Matt grunts.

Foggy snatches up the loofa, rams it between Matt's legs, tucked right under his ballsack. He holds it there, still.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" Foggy asks, as pleasantly as commenting on the lovely weather.

Matt freezes. 

"Yes, sir," Matt breathes. "Yes, Foggy, sir."

"I'm so glad," Foggy says. He leans forward. Matt remains still. Foggy presses the loofa little tighter into Matt's skin. "Good boys keep their legs closed until they're told."

Matt inhales. "Yes, Foggy." He clamps his muscular legs shut around the loofa. It's rough and digs into his tenderized skin.

Foggy reaches around and gently pats Matt's dick, now dripping. "There's my lovely boy." Foggy's voice is proud. He leans back, examining his handiwork. Matt's ass is red and raw and trembling. There's sweat pooling in the small of his back. Foggy admires, takes time to reach down and touch himself. His dick perks up a little, but is still sensitive.

Matt rolls one leg past the other, dragging the loofa across... everything: his balls, his perineum, and if he just wiggles a little more he can maybe imagine it could catch the very edge of his asshole... Matt open his mouth, rolls his leg again, and moans. 

Foggy shakes his head. "Insatiable." He paddles Matt again, this time in sets of seven.

_Whap whap whap **WHAP** whap whap **WHAP**_

Matt moans between the hits. He clenches around the loofa but doesn't dare let it fall, even as it bites into him with the prick of tiny teeth.

"You can be good for me a little longer, to make up for your wickedness."

Foggy doesn't wait for an answer.

_Whap whap whap **WHAP** whap whap **WHAP**_

Matt's moans start to blur together: rather than a gasp at each blow he's exhaling in a long, broken, stuttering sigh.

After another round of paddling, Foggy pauses, panting. Every inch of Matt's ass and upper legs is red, slick with sweat, and tight with strain. He's shivering. He's wonderful.

"Thank you for bringing me our toys, Matt. I know you don't want to feel empty, and I want to help you."

Matt nods into the couch. Foggy reaches between Matt's leg, tugs gently on the loofa. Matt hisses as it scrapes over his skin.

Foggy sets aside the loofa, in easy reach. He retrieves the lube and grabs the set of beads. They're black and slick silicone, strung along at regular intervals. There's large loop at the end to make for easy tugging.

Matt, hearing Foggy, cranes his head so Foggy can see his face. "Please?" Matt asks.

Foggy pats Matt's foot. "I've got you." He then reaches and grabs the first butt plug Matt had brought him, the larger one that usually takes some working up to. Matt's smile widens.

Foggy smiles back, smoothing his hand up Matt's calf. "You were good for me just now, and if you keep being good for me, maybe you'll get this reward, too."

Matt nods vigorously. He shakes his ass, bright red, at Foggy.

Foggy laughs. He pats Matt's ass again and uncaps the lube, first coating himself lightly (just... just in case) and then slicking up the string of anal beads.

It's not like a necklace, this toy. More like a flexible silicone wand. The beads get progressively larger from tip to base. Matt really likes this toy, and Foggy's not surprised he brought it out tonight.

Foggy braces his palm on the small of Matt's back and lines up the tip of the bead wand. Matt tries to rock back onto the toy, but Foggy holds him steady. He rolls the toy in his hand so the tip spins, dancing along the edge of Matt's entrance. 

Matt pushes back harder. Foggy pulls the toy away the same distance, rolling it slowly.

Matt flexes his hips to stretch the skin of his asshole a bit wider, straining to take it in.

"Please," Matt begs, "Please!"

Foggy smiles. "So now, when you've finally got something knocking on your doorstep, you decide to be polite?"

"No, Foggy, sir, I--" Matt scrambles to say. He reaches out a hand and grabs the loofa, stuffing it between his legs. "I was good and I'll be good, just _please_."

Foggy slides the tip of the wand into Matt's hungry ass. The beads are slick and warm, but unforgiving. To Foggy's ears there's very little noise, but he imagines Matt hears a _plop-plop-plop!_ as the first three beads tuck into his body.

The tension relaxes out of Matt's muscles in an instant. He goes pliant, just barely holding the loofa in place as he rocks his hips, grinding against the abrasive texture there while pushing back against the beads.

Foggy strokes the small of Matt's back and pushes again. The beads are steadily wider and wider, but Matt opens for them: _plop plop plop_

Foggy rolls the wand; they're most of the way down the rod now. Matt keeps rocking, forward and back, forward and back.

"Clench for me, Matty."

Matt nods. "Yes, Foggy."

His asshole puckers, clamping down. He moans, open-mouthed. He clenches.

Right as Matt relaxes the second time, Foggy pushes again. The second-to-last bead stretches Matt open and Foggy slows the push. Matt parts beautifully. "So hungry," Foggy whispers.

Matt shakes his head rapidly. "Yes, yes. Want it."

Foggy holds the bead in place at its widest point, rolling it, rolling it. 

"Please!"

Foggy smiles. He pushes directly until the next, final, largest bead is opening Matt. Matt always has a little trouble with this one, so Foggy goes slowly. But Matt, fully convinced he's ready, sits back and devours the bead so quickly Foggy has to scramble to grab the safety loop.

Matt reaches down with one hand and grabs the loofa, stroking it up against himself. "Fuck!" he shouts.

The friction burns his dick but it also distracts from the sudden, sharp cramp in his gut. The jerking movement pulls the string of beads in tighter as his abs clench.

Foggy holds tight, crooking his fingers. The backs of his knuckles graze Matt's entrance.

Matt drops the loofa and resets his arm on the couch, gasping. His chest heaves. Foggy looks up, checking in. He rubs his hand gently on the small of Matt's back, tugs gently on the string of beads. "Can you feel it?"

"Fuck yes I can feel it," Matt growls.

"I can't," Foggy comments idly.

Matt clenches his ass, gasping as he tightens around the toy.

"Yes, yes, you have a lovely, powerful ass but... Matty, on your back for me."

Matt complies, grumbling. Foggy uses his free hand to set Matt's knees up so he can kneel between them. He pauses a moment to admire the chapped red skin all over Matt and then he leans forward and presses his hand low on Matt's abdomen. He tugs on the anal bead wand, just a bit, then pushes.

Matt sighs. 

"Tell me if this hurts," Foggy says and presses his palm down more firmly.

Matt's stomach has a hard layer of muscle, but underneath is more soft. Foggy pushes the wand in with his right hand, fingers hooked around the safety loop. Technically it's probably not safe for Matt to take the entire toy like this but Foggy knows the wonders of Matt's ass and he knows they're nowhere near the limit. He presses down harder with his left hand, fingers splaying. Matt moans and squirms on his back. His legs fall wide.

Foggy tugs on the wand until the largest bead is just breaching, just bowing Matt's asshole outward. He rolls the wand and then he pushes back in, hard. 

Matt moans, and nods. "Please, Foggy."

"Hmm...?" Foggy asks.

"Please. More. More please."

Foggy starts pumping the wand in earnest. He rocks it side to side, trying to feel the way it shifts inside Matt, the way it pushes and stretches him.

"Ugh--" Matt stutters.

Foggy glances up, rubbing small circles on Matt's stomach with the fingers of his left hand.

"More, please."

"In a moment," Foggy says, though he does thrust the wand farther in.

"Here!" Matt says, grabbing Foggy's hand and shifting it to the side. He pushes on Foggy's hand, pressing deep. Foggy tilts his head and frowns, jiggling the wand. He can't feel it.

"RIGHT HERE!" Matt insists. He grabs Foggy's right wrist and wrenches upward, jabbing the toy deeper. 

And -- there it is: Just a bit of a bump, a bulge in Matt's lower abdomen. And Foggy can control it.

Now that he's got his bearings, Foggy pumps the toy. Matt drops his hands, scrabbling at the floor. "Foggy, Foggy, please."

Foggy leans forward, _slam slam slam._

He spreads his fingers across Matt's taut skin. He presses the wand in as far as he can reach, and then: he presses a single kiss on that shiny bump. 

Matt releases with a shout, squirting cum into the air. 

"Good," Foggy whispers, rocking the wand. "So good for me."

Matt twitches and jerks. "Aaah. Aaaaah. Foggy, thank you. Thank you, Foggy."

Foggy pats Matt's stomach, avoiding a sticky patch. "You were naughty, but then you were so good."

Matt nods. "I was. For you."

Foggy reaches for the washcloth, and begins to clean up his very good boy.


End file.
